Hermione's Hideaway
by Magda the Magpie
Summary: Each chapter is a new drabble or short fic for the Hermione's Haven facebook group challenges, which will all be centered around Hermione. Notes at the beginning of each chapter will give you the summary and pairing.
1. The Rule of Three

**The Rule of Three**

 **For the July 2018 Roll-a-Drabble, I rolled:**  
 **Pairing: Neville/Hermione/Blaise**  
 **Trope: Fake Dating.**

 **Summary: What to do when you are someone's beard and get asked out by your fake boyfriend's crush?**

* * *

Hermione was having "A Bad Day". But a promise was a promise. Besides, Blaise always invited her to the most expensive places to eat. It wasn't even to show off how full his Gringotts vault was. No, he just wanted to makes sure the right people got to ogle his beard, and as many of them as possible.

She sometimes wondered about the wisdom of having accepted to be the man's fake girlfriend. She hadn't even known him that well at the time, and it's not like it was such a big deal to be gay nowadays, even less so in the wizarding world. But she had been promised a hot meal, good conversation and Blaise had these puppy-dog eyes that no Slytherin should be allowed to possess.

At least she'd made a new friend, and how strange was that?

"You don't look well tonight, sweetheart. What's wrong?"

"Neville asked me out."

Blaise frowned.

"The Snake Slayer?"

"You guys seriously call him that?"

"Are you kidding? We're all terrified of the bloke. It's sexy as hell."

Hermione snorted and choked on her wine. Blaise handed her a napkin and patted her hand.

"I guess he is," she admitted although she'd always had trouble not seeing him as the chubby boy who always forgot the common room password, his homework, his toad, his way to the classroom… "But it's a moot point since _we_ are dating, and I told him so."

"And what did sex-on-legs say?"

"He said you were as gay as a unicorn and that he was going to prove it."

Blaise's eyebrows crawled steadily higher as she spoke.

"And how is he going to do that?"

"I have no earthly idea, but don't underestimate a Gryffindor on the warpath."

"Oh, I'd never do such a foolish thing. Counterproductive to the whole cunning shtick we've got going. Besides, he's not wrong."

Hermione laughed, but stopped abruptly upon hearing his next words.

"Not entirely right either, however. That might be a problem."

"What do you mean?"

"Men, women… it's all same to me."

Hermione snatched her hand back, belatedly realising Blaise had even fondling it for the last ten minutes. She'd let her guard down because he was supposed to be her _gay_ friend.

"But… I'm your beard."

"And quite a nice one too. One I'd like to keep."

"But…"

"Oh, come on, Hermione," he purred. "You wouldn't have given me the time of day before this whole set-up. Now we're friends, good friends. Hopefully more very soon."

"You… you're such a Slytherin!"

"Why, thank you. Does that mean I'm forgiven?"

"No," she said and crossed her arms over her chest, smirking when she noticed an approaching figure. It was not their waiter, more like an oncoming storm. "Prepare for your punishment."

Blaise's eyes widened a fraction as he followed her line of sight. He didn't even have time to brace himself when he was yanked out of his chair by a fuming Neville. Blaise was right. The knight in shining armour was definitely a good look on him.

What she hadn't expected was for Neville to kiss Blaise smack on the lips in front of the entire restaurant. It was quite a show, and Blaise was not putting up much of a fight. In fact, once the shock had passed, he was the one in control and mauling poor Neville. Hermione bit her bottom lip as she stared at the two very different men kissing so fiercely. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't a bit turned on, and knew the heat in her cheeks had nothing to do with the wine.

Finally, they parted and she could breathe again. Blaise dropped back in his chair, his eyes unfocused.

"See?" Neville panted. "Gay. He's using you."

"Bisexual, actually."

"W- what?"

Hermione conjured a chair for Neville to sit down with them, then a privacy charm because they'd made enough of a scene for tonight already. The wait staff shot her a grateful look and carried on as if such scandals were a daily occurence.

"Blaise is bisexual. He likes both men _and_ women."

"Oh," Neville said, confusion evident before he turned bright red. "Oh!"

"But we were pretending to date. Doubly so for Blaise."

"Were?" Neville asked hopefully.

"Yes, Hermione. That past tense has me quite titillated too."

Neville glared at him, but gave up when Blaise only winked back.

"I don't know!" she huffed. "You just confused the hell out of me. You, Blaise, with your underhanded seduction, and you, Neville, for just asking me out of the blue."

"It's just taken me this long to gather up my courage to ask you out," Neville confessed.

Hermione blinked at him.

"You stood up to Voldemort," she deadpanned.

She couldn't possibly be scarier than the darkest wizard to have walked the Earth.

"You slew his Snake with a mythical sword," Blaise added with a hint of awe.

He was such a fangirl. Maybe she should leave and let those two get better acquainted.

"Yes, well…" Neville shrugged, blushing under both their attention.

 _He's so precious,_ Blaise mouthed at her across the table.

 _I know_ , she replied, forgetting she was supposed to be mad at him.

She worried her bottom lip again, unsure where to go from here, then threw caution to the wind. For once in her life, she was going to follow her instinct and not care about the consequences.

 _That_ might be the wine talking.

"Besides, the two of you…" she paused to clear her throat. "That kiss… it was hot."

She glanced around, just to make sure no one else had heard, or that a bolt of lighting wasn't going to strike her down.

Neville looked away, but Blaise smirked at her knowingly, the prick.

"It's fine, sweetheart. I sure enjoyed it, and I can assure you Neville did too."

"I did not!" Neville protested.

"Boners don't lie, Slayer," Blaise singsonged. "I say the three of us have dinner together like civilised people and get to know each other better."

"You mean like a date?" Neville squeaked, but he wasn't leaving.

Hermione doubted the idea had even crossed his mind. She laughed. This was going to be the best date ever.


	2. A Cauldron Full of Sun

**A Cauldron Full of Sun**

 **Written for the Hermione's Personal Library challenge, round 1**

 **Pairing: Hermione/Neville**

 **Inspired from the quote:** **"** **He stepped down, trying not to look at her, as if she were the sun, yet he saw her, like the sun, even without looking." - Anna Karenina**

 **Summary:** **Truer words were never spoken when Hermione told Neville he was brilliantly bad at potions.**

* * *

Neville hated when they worked on solo assignments, even more so when it was potions. Without a partner to guide him through the whole thing, he was… Well, he hated to admit that Snape was right, but he really was clueless about the whole process, and somehow, his cauldron always melted, except on the rare occasions when it exploded instead. Neville glanced at Seamus sitting in front of him, but he didn't look half as jittery about setting his cauldron off like a firework. Maybe because he actually enjoyed explosions in general, even if they detonated right in his face.

Sighing, Neville checked the next step again and threw in one pinch of crushed pixie wing to his potion, stirred clockwise twice, anticlockwise thrice, then watched in horror as it turned a brilliant shade of gold. So brilliant, in fact, that he had to look away.

"Neville," Hermione hissed next to him. "What did you do?"

"I don't know. Can you help me before it… does something I don't want it to?"

Hermione's eyes softened as they often did when she helped. He felt bad for asking, especially with Snape prowling around somewhere, but his potion should be a deep red and he was very afraid of what might happen if he didn't correct it soon. Hermione scooted over, her wild hair tickling his nostrils when she leaned over to stare into his potion. Her eyes were wide with disbelief when she looked back at him.

"I don't have a clue," she announced. "You're brilliantly bad at potions, you know? It's kind of amazing."

The corners of her lips quirked, and she started giggling. Her laugh had always been infectious so he laughed along despite knowing nothing was going right with his potion. Hell, even with his life.

"And what, pray tell, do you find so… _amusing_?"

Snape said the word as if it tasted particularly 's laugh died on his lips and his heart stopped beating out of fear for a moment. The Potions Master glanced into his cauldron and a nasty smile split his face.

"I do believe it is time to test your potions... On yourselves," he said, more of a boggart than the real thing could ever be.

"But sir," Hermione intervened.

She was harshly cut off by the "Professor", taken points from and assigned a detention with Filch that very night. Just for those two words, for trying to protect him. Neville squeezed her hand under the desk, silently begging her to stop before she was punished further. He wasn't worth it. The warmth of her hand gave him just enough strength to take his wooden ladle without shaking too obviously and fill it with his concoction, very aware that every eye in the classroom was on him: the Gryffindors shaking with righteous anger, the Slytherins snickering at his plight.

Neville brought the ladle to his lips and sipped his potion. It had none of the pepper-up effects he should have expected had he brewed it correctly, nor did it have its slightly spicy taste. However, it did fill him with warmth, like a soft blanket in front or a crackling fire, like the times her mother looked at him and _saw_ him, just long enough to give him a candy wrapper and fill his heart with love and longing. That warmth was right at his fingertips, a tiny sun cradled in his hand. He brought it up to his face to look at this new wonder and found a hand, Hermione's hand, blinding him with its perfection, so much so he had to close his eyes and yet, he could still feel the warmth and love of his friend radiating all around him. She was all he ever wanted: caring but strong, smart but not condescending, funny but never at someone's expense. It was so obvious. Too obvious maybe, like the sun hanging in the sky. You never look at it, yet know it's there, vital and beautiful, and like the sun, you dance around it all year long, never too far away, caught in its orbit. Neville realized he had been ever since she had helped him find Trevor on that first ride on the Hogwarts Express. Always there for him with her warm smile and soft eyes.

"You're my sun," he whispered into her hand and kissed it.

He opened his eyes when he heard her squeak and try to snatch her hand away. There were a lot of catcalls from one half of the classroom and snickers from the other. Snape was not amused, probably disappointed he had not keeled over dead. Neville felt like rolling his eyes, but his attention was caught by Hermione's bright red cheeks and wide eyes. Whatever the potion had done had worn off, but the evidence of what he had discovered remained. His eyes were open and his heart ready to accept what it had known for years: he loved Hermione and he would show her everyday from this day on until she found him worthy. Until she, too, saw the sun.


	3. Soul Searching

**Soul Searching**

 **Written for the Hermione's Personal Library challenge, round 2**

 **Pairing: Hermione / Dudley Dursley**

 **Inspired from the quote: "Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same." - Emily Brontë**

 **Summary: Hermione should know better than to be prejudiced.**

* * *

Rose Dursley

Hermione's blood ran cold upon reading the name of the Muggle born she was to pay a visit to as a Hogwarts Professor. She imagined a scared little girl with ill-fitting clothes, sleeping in the broom cupboard, and crying herself to sleep as she wondered why everyone hated her, why she was a freak…

No. She couldn't wait for a formal meeting this summer if there was a child in danger. She wouldn't let history repeat itself. Checking the address, Hermione made her way there as quickly as magically possible, which was quite fast if she had to be honest.

Once there, she squinted at the man exiting the little cottage. He looked nothing like Harry had described, nor did he look like a younger version of his father whom Hermione had had the misfortune of meeting once. The address was correct, so was the name on the letterbox, and the man she was now following was about the right age, but he was as far from an overweight bully as one could possibly imagine with his athletic build and laugh lines clear on his face.

Appearances couldn't be trusted however, and she had yet to find Rose. So she stalked her prey. An errand here and there, commute, then work all morning in a gym called Big D, followed by a quick lunch on a bench outside in the sun… quite ordinary really. But after that, he hurried into another building full of offices and she lost him.

"Drat," she muttered.

She was going to have to comb through the whole building if she wanted to find out what nefarious deed he was up to. With a sigh, she cast a disillusionment charm on herself and methodically checked every office on every floor. It took her a while to find the bulky frame of her target, and her jaw dropped open when she realized what he was doing, before guilt washed over her for the more than unkind thoughts she'd been nursing about him.

Dudley Dursley, former bully of the Boy-Who-Lived, volunteered at an abused children hotline, and he was quite good at it from what she could hear. He had a soft voice and knew the right words to say; not to mention he was infinitely patient and understanding. She doubted she could do such a good job herself. As much as she loved to help people, children in particular, she would become too angry at what she would hear to be of any use. But she stayed at his side, listening covertly to one end of the conversation, completely entranced by this man she had been so adamant to hate.

He stayed for two hours before rushing off, just in time to pick up his daughter from school.

Rose.

A happy little girl in pigtails and a pretty dress, who ran into her father's arms with a squeal of delight at being picked off the ground and onto his shoulders.

When she followed them home, she told herself it was just to make sure it wasn't a front they put up in public. Did she feel like a creep spying on them in their very home? Quite frankly, yes. But she couldn't help it. She needed to know more about Harry's estranged cousin. She waited, watched, laughed and waited some more, but Rose's mother never walked into the picture. Only two coats hanging in the entrance, two plates for dinner, two seats on the sofa, two kisses good night, and then there was one.

Dudley Dursley didn't wear a wedding band, didn't have photos of his wife on the wall… He was the very picture of loneliness as he stared without seeing at his television screen.

She saw herself in him, she realized. Relieved in some measure that she hadn't suddenly turned in a peeping tom. She'd simply been drawn towards a kindred spirit. One molded by adversity, striving for change, needing to help the less fortunate and crushed by loneliness despite a rather full life. Cut from the same cloth, her mother would have said.

It was hard to believe, him being who he was, but she had been at his side all day and there was no denying the obvious... nor the subtle nudges from her magic to reach towards him. She grimaced at the idea of soulmates. She had always mocked the very notion, and here she was contemplating it.

Reluctantly, she made her way towards the front door, but tripped on a photo album sticking out of a lower shelf. As she picked it up, a picture of Rose's face covered in chocolate greeted her. Curious, knowing she shouldn't, but unable to resist the temptation, she looked through it: Rose's birth, a blond woman looking exhausted but happy holding her, a formal family portrait, first Christmas with Harry's abominable Uncle and Aunt, first steps, a first birthday, the second, third… the chronicle of Rose's life. A perfect family.

A new birthday. The fourth, as the balloons boldly proclaimed, and a single picture of a levitating cake with horrified expressions all around. A blank page followed that picture and she turned it with trembling fingers. Rose at the zoo. Rose eating an ice-cream. Rose with a butterfly on her nose. Rose running in the grass. Rose smiling. Always smiling, but always alone save a few school friends.

It wasn't hard to fill in the blanks. Hermione carefully put the photo album back and left. Tomorrow was Sunday. A good day for a visit from a Hogwarts Professor.

Now, she just had to find a way to apologize to Dudley for spying on him, and figure out how to tell Harry she intended to court his cousin...


	4. A Perfect Smile

**A Perfect Smile**

 **Written for the Hermione's Personal Library challenge, round 3**

 **Pairing: Hermione/Marcus Flint**

 **Inspired from the quote:** **"Years of love have been forgot, In the hatred of a minute." - Edgar Allan Poe**

 **Summary: Hermione has a teeth fetish, but this is not that story.**

* * *

It was the teeth she noticed first, she was ashamed to say. It wasn't her fault. Her parents had drilled into her how important good teeth were to the point she had become as obsessed as any dentist, and so, was unable to rebuke Harry for saying Marcus Flint must have troll blood in him.

The older Slytherin's attitude didn't exactly endear him to her either. He was a prejudiced and violent bully. But worse: he was a moron, which be proved to the world at large when he failed his NEWTs, officially making him a full troll.

Surprisingly, he came back to repeat his year. Hermione hadn't even known that was possible, and she had to admit it took some guts to face your Professors and sit amongst the younger students with failure written all over you.

He was taking his studies seriously too, which is how she found him in the library, cursing amongst the rows at the back where the more complicated and dusty volumes were kept. She froze, wondering if he was going to curse her since there were no witnesses around.

"You're that smart chick," he said without malice.

Hermione forgot to be offended by his choice of words, fascinated as she was by his teeth which were no longer crooked, oversized or yellow.

"Yes? I suppose… Your Head of House says I'm an insufferable know-it-all anyway."

Flint laughed and somehow roped her into helping him find the books he needed, then tutor him, then make him one of her special planners her own friends hated so much… His Slytherin prejudice against muggleborns seemed to wane the more they talked, and over time, despite everything, they became friends. Good friends. Even if they were smart enough to keep it a secret.

They kept in touch after he graduated and started working at the Ministry. His letters full of anecdotes about his scatterbrained secretary and how he was slithering his way from one promotion to the next. During her year on the run, she knew he had tried to contact her. He thought she should have left the country instead of "shacking up" with two wizards. Ridiculous, but she still felt guilty for not sending him word that she was alive. She couldn't trust anyone, however. Not even him.

When Marcus found her in the hospital wing after the final battle, he hugged her, then scolded her for being such a Gryffindor. For her part, Hermione was just glad she had someone who cared for her. Harry was hiding, the Weasleys were grieving, and she felt like the most selfish person in the world for being so happy in such a dark time because someone was there for her. Just her.

After graduation, she was hired at the Ministry and saw Marcus more regularly. She thought she might have unwittingly fallen in love with him years ago, but she wasn't brave enough to act on it. She could be wrong about her feelings, or it could be unrequited, and she might lose a friend she cared very much for…

It wasn't worth it.

So she pined for him in secret and focused on her career instead.

But temptation to give in to her feelings was overwhelming when Marcus leaned against the door to her office with that cocky grin of his showing off his perfectly aligned teeth.

"Still working over hours?" he asked.

"You know how Gordon is."

"You're too good for the work he's making you do."

Hermione shrugged and stamped another parchment before filing it, but Marcus persisted.

"You should come work in my division. I won't waste your time with idle paperwork. You'd be of real use there with me."

Hermione frowned at the insinuation that what she was doing was useless. It wasn't vital, granted, but it was work and she did it perfectly.

"I will get there eventually. Gordon promised me a promotion as soon as this project is done."

"Didn't he say that two years ago already?"

Hermione sighed.

"I can do this on my own, Marcus. On my own merit. I don't need you to pull strings for me."

Marcus stepped into her office and closed the door behind him, so Hermione stopped fussing with her paperwork.

"You won't make it. I'm sorry to tell you, Hermione, but if you're not willing to use your connections, this is as far as you go."

"What?" she spat in outrage, rising from her seat.

She felt as if she was standing on the edge of a cliff while strong winds howled around her.

"It's not your fault. I'm not questioning your capabilities. It's because of your status… you know…"

"My status?" she repeated, stunned.

"Well, you know. For a witch, you've been doing very well, but between that and you being a muggleborn… Outsiders never make it very far here. I did try to tell you in my letters. Don't tell me this is news to you."

Hermione gaped at Marcus. How could he believe such misogynistic, pure-blooded views? It was as if she didn't know the first thing about him. The very fact he considered her like an outsider to the magical world after all this time was like a slap in the face.

"You believe the shite you're spouting right now?"

"You just have to look around you, Hermione. I'm not making it up, I'm simply stating the facts. It's the way things are. Always will be."

Hermione toppled back into her chair, the roil of emotions churning her insides shifted into a brooding storm of epic proportions. Maybe she had known all along. Maybe she had wanted to believe the best of the wizarding world after everything she had sacrificed. But she'd show them. She'd show Marcus how much a woman could accomplish on her own, and how far a muggleborn could go based on their merit alone. She would make him eat his petty words with his perfect teeth if it was the last thing she did.


	5. Coffee Break

**Coffee Break**

 **Hermione/Dudley**

 **Rating: G**

 **Summary** : **New job, new beginning, until someone from the past appears to ruin it all.**

Hermione stared at the parchment in her hands with a wide grin. She gave the Ministry owl a treat then schooled her features into a more appropriate expression.  
Finally, after years of working as a subaltern in many Ministry departments that would only allow a muggleborn to rise so far, she was given the post as muggle liaison secretary she had been lusting after for so long.  
Unfortunately, her being granted that post meant its former occupant had died -of old age, thank Merlin- but it still made her feel something of a carrion crow for being so happy about it.

Hermione hadn't realized how used she was to wearing witch's robes until she had to stuff herself into a muggle suit, which was very sleek and black and tight, but she had to admit it did make her feel like a badass and she was going to need all the confidence she could get. Loaded up with coffee, her wand waxed within an inch of its life, she was ready to take on whatever was thrown at her.  
Which was… boredom, apparently. She had a small office within the muggle Ministry with the mysterious initials MLO on the door and two junior agents at her beck and call. She had met one high-ranking official who was in the know of the Wizarding World but who looked for all the world like he'd rather not know and told her to deal with everything through his assistant, not even bothering to give him his name, just to expect him by two. Until that time, one other person had wandered in looking for IT and another for accounting. No need to say, Hermione was thinking of renaming the office to something less mysterious.  
Fifteen minutes before her meeting was due, her nerves got the better of her so she went to the floor's break room for some coffee, not that it would help said nerves, but it would give her something to occupy her hands and mind while she waited. A fidget cup, you might call it.  
Of course she would embarrass herself on her first day there by dropping the teacup - empty, thank Merlin- but it shattered on the corner of the counter and sharp pieces of porcelain flew everywhere.  
"Here, let me help you," the man standing in line behind her offered.  
Hermione nodded and mumbled her thanks but didn't dare look up, her cheeks a flaming red of embarrassment she was sure. When everything was cleaned up, she finally stood, smoothing her suit back into some semblance of professionalism and smiled at her helper.  
"Thank you again. I must be more nervous than I realized."  
"That's quite alright," he chuckled." You're new here? I don't think I've ever seen you around before."  
Hermione blinked up at the blond man, wondering if he was being honestly curious or using such a cliché pick-up line on purpose.  
"First day," she admitted, giving up on coffee entirely since her meeting was due any minute now.  
"It's nice to have you here. I'm Dudley, Dudley Dursley."  
Hermione ignored the proffered hand, too busy staring in incredulity and horror at the man who had bullied her best friend all through childhood.  
"This is usually the moment you give me your name," he chuckled nervously.  
"Hermione Granger," she answered without warmth, without intonation or hand shaking.  
Dudley, the cousin from hell, had never met her, but he must have heard her name through Harry or on the rare occasions she sent him letters through muggle post or tried to call him on the phone, because his brow wrinkled in thought.  
"Have we met before?" he asked, finally dropping his hand.  
"No, but you know my best friend, Harry."  
"Oh."  
Oh. Because what else was there to say, really? Harry had never managed to mend the bridges with his only blood relatives and had simply drifted away into the Wizarding World where he was actually loved and appreciated.  
"Oh no," he added.  
"What now?"  
"I think you must be the new head of MLO I'm due to meet with in," he checked his watch. "Two minutes?"  
And so it was, the most awkward working relationship she'd had to deal with, and she'd had to work with Draco bloody Malfoy at some point, so that was saying a lot. But they worked well together, she had to admit, dealing with the crises and exchanging information with both efficiency and rapidity. When Hermione had told Harry about it, he couldn't believe Dudley held such an important post when he'd been such a mediocre kid on all levels, but he appeared genuinely happy for him.  
That made her curious, and if Harry didn't hold a grudge against his cousin after all these years, why should she? He was a nice enough bloke, smart and funny. Surprisingly good looking too, given everyone who had ever described him had always compared him to a pig in a wig.  
So she let herself laugh at his witticisms instead of biting down on her amusement, she gave him advice even when he didn't ask for it, and accepted his help when he offered it. Their work only improved from it, as did their working relationship. The muggle and Wizarding worlds had never been this tight knit before, and gone was the awkwardness between them.  
"How about some coffee?" Dudley asked when they closed a particularly sensitive case. "I'll make it. They've cut down the budget on broken cups again."  
"Oï, that only happened once!" she objected with mock vehemence. "But gladly, if there's still decaf."  
Dudley really did prepare her own cup and they toasted to another job well done.  
"You know, I'm glad it's you, despite you not liking me. Working with that old geezer before was tedious and we rarely got anything done. I actually feel useful now."  
"I don't… dislike you, exactly," Hermione said carefully, staring into her steaming coffee. "I was… prejudiced against you, I suppose, which wasn't fair, I now realize. People change. I should have given you a chance."  
"You are now. That's more than I'd hoped for. I really thought you were going to curse me those first few days. I kept checking I didn't grow a pig tail."  
"You know that's illegal," she laughed off, wincing internally. "But I have to ask: why choose to work as a Wizarding liaison after… everything?"  
The owl invasion, the giant, the pigtail, the cursed candy, his blown up aunt, the dementor attack and his parents hatred of magic in general.  
Dudley gave her a shy look but didn't look away.  
"Because of Harry. I thought maybe one day I'd get to see him again working this position, or at least hear about him, but then I realized I could also do some good, create good relations between the two worlds. I guess it's my way of making up for my errors."  
Hermione almost teared up upon hearing this, confirming her opinion that Dudley was a good man.  
"Would you like to accompany me for dinner this weekend?" she asked.  
"You mean, as in a date?" he asked, cheeks turning pink.  
Hermione froze. She actually meant as in taking him to visit his cousin at the Weasley Weekly Lunch at the Burrow that Sunday, but she might as well get something out of her meddling. She held her breath as she nodded slowly, then released it when he agreed.  
She never regretted her meddling though, nor letting go of old grudges. 


End file.
